Hot and Cold
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: If Ste had helped Brendan cheat at poker leading to something more, at Danny Houston's big game after the argument at the skatepark (December 2010). Two parter.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Set during the time of the "King of Hearts" episode where Brendan plays poker and Danny Houston is there. Ste would have helped Brendan cheat that night if they hadn't rowed in the skatepark and Brendan hadn't punched Trevor. This is a "What if…" fic, if Ste HAD played poker and like they'd planned, there'd been something more after…**

**Part one of two…**

**Hot and Cold**

Brendan knew better than to rob Danny blind, right under his nose. At least, he wasn't as obvious as Jacqui about it. He had Steven in his cheap polyester shirt giving half-lidded flicks of the eye and subtle taps against his chair as he walked by with drinks. Eyes weren't on him, they were on the over-made up barmaid and her zealous flirting with the pugfaced brutes around the table. Jacqui was in big trouble, it was only a matter of time. Brendan stepped in, giving Ste a shove so that beer suds wrecked the current hand.

He screamed at him, for show of course, calling him an idiot. He sulked away, cleaning up the mess with help from Jacqui and feeling like a scolded child. No one would dare suspect a clumsy little boy of cheating.

Danny ushered him over once the game was abandoned. "I have to say, Brendan. I don't think much to your bar staff." He leered at Jacqui, her arse in full view. "Leave the boy out of it next time, yeah?" He could have sworn Danny gave a lisp to the word 'boy' but he shook himself out of the paranoia. Danny didn't suspect a thing, hadn't done in Liverpool and hadn't done when he'd taken Steven to the casino and wanted to wreck all his best laid plans just to get inside him there and then. He was sure back then that the lust was sweating off him. "Few more women next time wouldn't go amiss," Danny said, throwing back the last of his drink in his throat, "I'm sure he's fine pouring the booze in your little joint, but he's not got the tits for it. Know what I mean?"

Brendan laughed hollowly. "Point."

"Good hand tonight, though. Congratulations are in order," he said, offering out his hand to shake. "I know you wouldn't insult me by cleaning me out so early,"

"Is that you telling me to fuck off?" Brendan said, gum smacking between teeth as he laughed.

Danny tapped him on the arm. "That's me telling you to quit while you're ahead. While we're still mates." He pointed at him, laughing. There was always that edge of mistrust between them, but so far Brendan had managed to keep him on side.

Jacqui and Steven passed them then, carrying trays, broken glass and wet cloths. Jacqui wisely kept eye contact with Danny, giving him her best flattering smile and letting her hips sashay for him. Steven kept his head down after a brief look at Brendan and walked on by. He was timid around Danny in a way he'd never been towards Brendan. Danny had no reason to intimidate Steven and no reason to suspect him of anything, so why he was so careful around him made Brendan sit up and notice. Ste was perceptive when he needed to be, sniffed out danger.

"No wonder you couldn't keep a hold of her," Danny said to Brendan, watching Jacqui disappear out of sight. "Handful,"

Brendan puffed out the breath he wasn't aware he held and nodded, that testosteroned camaraderie laughter again.

Danny fished around in his jacket pocket, producing a card between his fingers. "Speaking of women. I know a pretty thing that would be right up your street. Blonde, skinny, young. Your sort, right?" He watched Brendan for any sort of twitch under that fixed laughter. "A bit vacant, wouldn't give you any trouble. But I'll warn you now, she's a right go-er." Danny winked at him, flicking the card in his direction.

Brendan felt the mask of disgust slipping and cleared his throat, tucking the card away. It had been years since Danny had tried to set him up with a woman, back when he was still playing the married card and he could claim to ogle and flirt all he liked, but he would tell Danny how faithful he was. Now that the wedding band was gone, he was a free agent to all intents and purposes.

"Between you and me, she's a bit of a deviant if you catch my drift," Danny said, not letting up on his grand schemes. He taped the side of his nose. "I'm sure you'd be man enough for her though, Brendan." His eyes flicked up as Steven shuffled past again. Brendan silently begged him not to make eye contact. "You look stressed, old man. Good seeing to would take your mind right off it. Why don't I invite her down?" Danny gripped onto his shoulder, giving him a laddy shake. His eyes bore into the back of Steven's neck and Brendan did all he could to not notice him. "Get her friends over too, have ourselves a little show. Your boy looks like he could use the practise too!"

Something snapped in Brendan and he found his collar like a noose around his neck. He needed to get out of there. He laughed off Danny's jibes, joining in a little, expressing interest in meeting this Candy or Candice or whatever her sugary sweet stripper name was. He knew Steven was listening, he could feel the coldness and the disappointment raising that wall between them again. He'd only managed to thaw things between them a little earlier after punching the fake Frenchman.

He'd caught him before he headed home, back to his stupidly naive little girlfriend. He said: _jump_ and she said: _how high?_ He said: _I've gotta stocktake_ and she said: _let me look after the kids_. She'd be dropping him off, handing him the lube soon. He couldn't have picked a better cover. It was only last week she pushed his kids on the swings, letting her boyfriend be pummelled at home on their bed.

They were in the stock room, it was risky, all the staff were in today including Cheryl. They seemed to be taking bigger and bigger risks these days.

"Whatever it is you've gotta say, I'm not interested," Ste said, tugging on his coat, bunching up his work hoodie.

"You can't seriously tell me you'd rather go home to blondey and play happy families?!" Brendan had his arms crossed, leaning by the doorway so Ste would struggle to leave without brushing past him.

"She doesn't lie to me. She doesn't go around punching people either!"

How many times? Brendan sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "He betrayed Cheryl. What would you like me to do, Steven? Thank him for using my sister and making a fool outta her?" He lowered the strain to his voice and tried softer. Ste seemed to believe him more when his voice was quiet and smooth. He was just like a woman in some ways; butter him up and tell him what he wants to hear. Like a man, a young one at that, he was easy because he was gagging for it and he'd be out of his clothes in no time. "It doesn't bother me who he is, what he is." Lies. The lisping and the mincing made him sick. But saying that wasn't going to lead to forgiveness.

Ste had melted a little, clasped his hands together and stood a bit closer.

"So are we gonna put this behind us," Brendan asked, fingers underneath Ste's chin, "Cos I could use your help tonight,"

Ste gave a little shrug, not raising his head. Brendan stroked his cheek, tucking his hair back.

"Atta boy," he said, fond. "And ring your little girlfriend, tell her you won't be coming home tonight." Brendan's thumb sat comfortably in the middle of Ste's bottom lip. "Whadda say, hmm?"

"I don't know, Brendan," he said, a petulant mumble. His conscious reared its ugly head at the worst times.

Brendan stepped in close. His finger tip circled a sweet spot behind Steven's ear, one that had him pawing like a kitten. "You don't want to?" He had making up to do, it seemed.

Brendan watched on as Ste's eyes rolled back into his skull and he rocked a little on his feet. "I do…I do _want_ to, s'just…"

He took his head in his hands and would've kissed him there if it wasn't for the staff outside the door, but swept both thumbs over his cheeks, looked into his eyes and breathed out deeply. "That settles it, then."

Bob's your uncle.

Brendan made his excuses with Danny, paid for another round of drinks and promised they'd meet up again sometime soon for poker. He said he'd definitely call that – he clicked his fingers – Crystal girl.

"We're goin'," he said to Steven on passing.

"Past his bedtime?" Danny said, uncorking another bottle of champagne and beckoning Jacqui over.

Brendan raised his eyebrows with a laugh. They were the macho men with the inside joke about the weedy young guy.

"See you boys," Danny called out as Brendan hot footed it out, paces ahead of Ste.

It was as Brendan unlocked the car and Ste rubbed his arms warm that he said, "D'you think Danny knows?"

"Knows what?" Brendan asked, jumping into the cold driver's seat and slamming on the heating as soon as his key lit up the ignition.

The car doors locked them inside. "About me and you."

"What about me and you?" Brendan said, distracted by the thought of Danny's men still lurking around in the car park.

"You know," Ste said. He leant forward to fidget with the heating dials as if it was his own car. It unnerved Brendan how familiar he was, how he knew that you had to turn the third dial up a quarter and the second dial up full blast for anything to happen.

Brendan looked over at him, turning the gum over in his mouth with his tongue. "What makes you think he knows?"

"He looks at me funny," Ste said. He rested his elbow on the window ledge, staring at the rain drops on the windscreen, glistening with the lights up all ready for Christmas.

"He looks at everyone funny," Brendan said, indicating right out of the warehouse car park. "He's a suspicious guy. He's got reason to be." Brendan fished out his wallet and threw it on the dashboard. "Five hundred in there for you."

"Sure?" Ste asked.

Brendan stopped at the traffic lights. The hotel he'd booked was under an hour away. He'd already created a lie for Cheryl, that he and Ste got drinking and just crashed in the car. Suspicion never even crossed her mind, not even with the fleeting gay rumour, she liked her boys getting on.

"I don't go back on my word. Just don't go splashing it around," Brendan said. He looked at him, gleeful prising twenties from the wallet folds like a kid after sugar. Maybe the forty mile drive was a mistake. His hand went from the wheel to Steven's thigh, squeezing the heat back into him.

"Where are we going?" Ste asked. There was a lump in his throat which he swallowed away and moved his hands awkwardly by his side, letting Brendan's grip ascend his leg.

The car swung down an industrial estate, one which he knew – because he read about these kinds of things – had been shut down and packed up a long time ago. It was a dead end, rusted and made private with walls of concrete buildings which shadowed the place like silent guards. It wasn't romantic or scenic. It was the kind of place you'd come to dump a body.

Steven shivered when the engine stopped. "What is this place?"

"Offices. Factories. All gone now," Brendan said. He adjusted his chair, pushing with his feet until it slotted back.

"Right…"

There was silence between them, until very deliberately, Brendan unzipped his trousers and it crackled through the car like a shatter of glass. His chest was rising and falling with breaths and he could see Steven's full lips, wet with spit, from the corner of his eye.

It had been a week. A long week. Steven had offered himself up on a plate the day after (_Rae was babysitting!_) and it would have been so easy to tear straight into him. Too easy. He was getting doe eyed and dreamy, this close to having hearts stream from his eyes. Seemed ludicrous when their fuck the day before and that's what it had been - a fuck - had been on the bed he shared with his girlfriend, her panties on the bed, him being ridden raw and with not so much as a cuddle after. He'd cum, let Steven suck his dick for a finale, then left him spent and reeking of sex, after a kiss and a comb of his hair, and let himself out. He hadn't expected him to slope around work the next day, besotted.

It wasn't like he didn't want him in the days that followed. Whenever they shared a shift, his eyes followed that black trouser encased arse on radar. Wanting him was a constant white noise in his mind. Thinking about him had become a mood that he couldn't shake. But that wasn't how it worked, Steven wasn't in control of when or where. He was.

Or so he liked to believe.

He loosened his belt, a metal rattle as it fell open and he pushed the fabric down. He was already hot, a mound growing under his underwear, he'd had to watch Steven suck from wet lager bottles all night like a schoolboy drinking underage. Ste curled his neck against the seat, playing that game of hide and seek where you want to look out from your place, but don't want to get caught. He gave a shy peek.

It was a relief to finally pull his dick into his hand and hold it there, knowing it would get the attention it so craved. It was moments away. He shrunk lower into the seat, chin slumped down. He had the back of his hand running down the length of Ste's thigh and then he pinched the trails of his shirt, as if to say: _Come on._ Ste licked his lips like he thought he ought to and manoeuvred his body, so he could kneel on his seat.

Brendan had two curled fingers out. They beckoned him like that but later, they'd fuck him like that too. He liked two at once, even straight away when he wasn't ready for them. That was another thrill of having Steven, he knew the cost of pleasure was worth waiting for.

He held the back of his head in his palm, the hair was thick and glossy, washed in Lynx shower gel and never conditioned. Ste's eyes were dark in the car, not the cool blue he was used to, the pupils dragged wide open. Brendan hummed through his nose, gravelly animal grunts, as Ste edged closer. His fingers, gun pointed, trailed a route down nape and spine and just then, Ste sunk him, tip to root and his head bobbed up to the surface again, admiring the way Brendan's cock glistened with saliva.

Brendan pressed back down on his head and Ste's mouth worked the tip. His mouth was made for sucking cock, Brendan had decided. His tongue had all the slick smoothness of someone living on sugar and he writhed it with the finesse of an acrobat, like he could tie cherry stalks in his sleep. There was no modesty in the noises he'd elicit. If it was snug groan that escaped or the sloppy wet of sucking, it only made Brendan's knuckles whiter when he gripped for control over his body. His shamelessness was the sexiest thing.

They were white now, viced to the arm rests watching that perfect head dip up and down, his mouth break to kiss and lick. He watched with shattering pleasure as Ste's eyes watered, taking him deep into his throat, right so he was suffocated by pubic hair. He didn't even use his hands to stop the ferocity of his movements, prevented only by the gagging of his throat.

It was when Ste opened his eyes, air coming fast from his nostrils, and looked up at Brendan with a knowing grin in his expression, that Brendan realised he was about to come. Ste had that smug pride written all over him, tugging the last of Brendan's will out of him with his tongue to his balls and then finally wrapping his lips airtight around his shaft.

He swallowed. Lips together, licked and wiped. He sat back on his calves. Brendan tucked himself away, skin prickling uncomfortably with sweat. Ste kissed him: no question, no request, just kissed him. He was salty and bitter.

"Hotel?"

"Hotel."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for such lovely comments and reviews. It's a bit of a change reading Brendan from an older time.**

**[2/2] Part Two**

Ste was quiet in the car. Guilt, Brendan suspected. He got a text, read it and hastily shoved it back in his pocket again. Brendan wondered what he told her, when he went home clothes damp with sweat and cum, when he still had Brendan's taste vivid in his mouth. Did he shower or eat before kissing her goodnight? Did she notice faint bruising on his thighs, lip marks on his neck? Would she even realise it was stubble rash reddening his skin – would he blame it on the detergent?

_I'm with Rae now_.

It rang in his mind. Last week she couldn't have been further from his concerns but since his rebuff, there'd not even been a text. When they'd been at work, he'd kept company with Rhys and not made much eye contact. He hadn't even played his usual routine of bringing in blondey and fooling around like teens to rub it in his face. He was treating her like she mattered, keeping her private. Running home early, turning down overtime, calling her in his breaks.

On his arm she was convenient, she wasn't that bright so that helped, and when it came to domesticity and nurture – she was the perfect little housewife. She cleaned up, she fed him, she took the kids out of the picture. It worked.

But sex? That was his, not hers. He could play happy families all he wanted at home as long as he came back, begging to be fucked. Because she couldn't give him that and sooner or later, he'd need sex more than he needed the dishes cleaned and she'd be tossed aside for his biggest weakness.

And tonight, he was looking very weak.

At the hotel, Brendan checked in leaving Ste waiting by the car for his text. No one would know them here but the thought of people seeing them, two men, enter a bedroom together churned his stomach. Their mouths might not say it but their eyes did. He wanted to keep the aggression at bay; Steven would never let him get close if he didn't.

He removed two bottles from the minibar, whiskey for him and a beer for Steven. He'd already had a couple and he was looser with drink inside him, ignored the press of the _should_ and submitted. He text Steven the room number, opened the drinks and waited.

His face was knotted in lines when he appeared at the door and he pressed a finger to his lips. He was on the phone. Brendan turned on his heel, jaw jutting out in a scoff and reached for his drink, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

"There's Calpol in the bathroom. He'll be fine. He always gets a bit whingey if he knows I'm not home," Ste said. He stood in the doorway, not making a commitment to the call or the room. His fingers went to his mouth, pulling at his bottom lip like he did in times of stress. He looked at Brendan, his shirt open and wafting as he moved around drinking, not knowing what his eyes were saying – _I'm sorry my girlfriend's on the phone; I can't do this; everything's saying we shouldn't be doing this; I'm hurrying her on; I'm ignoring the needs of my children for you._

"Rae, he'll be fine. Put on one of those story tapes and tell him I'll be home soon, yeah?" Ste said. He looked at Brendan again, the trail of hair at his belt. Brendan saw him look; his lips quirked. He strode forward and rocked closer on his soles, nodding with permission. Ste touched the hair that spiralled to pubic like it was gold dust. "No, no I can't. I'm still working." Brendan suppressed the glow of contentment. A pause. "Nah and then we'll be drinkin', won't we? Bars in town somewhere. Just a lads' thing." He could feel his heart pounding, phone slippery with his nervy sweat. Brendan had taken his shirt off, the muscles flexing when he circled his neck. "I will," he said. She didn't know the graphic images he was conjuring when she'd said: _have fun_, "Love you, too."

When the call ended he pressed the phone to his mouth, letting his lies settle in the room. Brendan watched on as he switched it off, moved away and sat on the bed, making himself smaller by hugging his elbows.

"Women trouble?" Brendan said, leaning his back on the desk behind him.

"I thought you brought me here for sex, not to talk," Ste said gloomily.

Brendan didn't like his tone. He didn't want a vessel, it was the fire in him he lusted after the most, and his mind that raced into overdrive. He'd gone cold again, resignation and bitterness hardening him. When Ste needed him - body and more - vulnerable and fragile, it was like someone had created him out of fantasy. And with that, came Steven's gutter-like pleasure seeking between the sheets. His idolisation spread to a fixation on the fulfilment of Brendan's physical needs – he wanted the attention, the praise for being good in bed. He wanted to be asked back for more. He wanted to make Brendan cum.

Brendan handed him a beer. Their hands met, hot, across the condensation.

Ste's lips were on his. He murmured inside him, letting the wet slither of tongue be sucked by Brendan, until he broke away.

"You could always go home to her," Brendan said. A test. Ste panted into his mouth – put the drink down – fingers resolute in his hair. His eyes roamed Brendan's body and Brendan let him. The pink flush to Steven's mouth thrilled him like a livewire of electricity through his flesh, if he'd been a little closer, Brendan would have felt him pressing hard against his trousers. The passion was there – but the need?

Words weren't his strong point and he deliberated, chewing down on chapped lips. He took Brendan's hand – and Brendan's wave of panic at a moment of tenderness didn't last – thrust it against the swell of his groin.

"She doesn't make me feel like you do," Ste said and with all his physicality, launched himself on Brendan, tumbling against his chest. Brendan pulled him closer, rolling him onto his back and letting his lips snap free from his mouth at the force of his extraction, when he knelt up over him.

He ran his palms over Ste's chest and down, concentrated, over his crotch. Ste's hips arched at the touch, like a flame writhing with heat, and kept wilting gaze on Brendan's thumbs, rubbing at his clothed erection. His cheeks puffed out with breath when Brendan's fingertips skipped up his body to unbutton his shirt, trashing it to the side and sliding Ste's arms up above his head, elongating him like a Grecian statue. His nose and lips drew lines over his chest, breathing in that ripe sweat – the kind that said he was sure this was wrong, but everything primal in him craved it.

Brendan climbed between his legs and pushed for contact at the pelvis. Ste's head had fallen to the side, cheek pushed into the pillow, Brendan wrenched it back so their gaze met.

"Tell me what you want," Brendan said.

"Everything," Ste said, eyes wide like a pauper given keys to the city. His lips trembled.

Brendan kissed his jaw, giving a little laugh. His mouth made snatching kisses down his throat, whiskey perfumed breath gusting over his nipples, as he pinched them between his lips. He teased down Ste's trousers, the slow strip-reveal of more flesh and brushed fingertips over the hair that darkened from golden at his groin. The skin there was hot and pulsing. He'd been trimming there, like he was expecting the attention, offering himself like an invitation.

Brendan left Steven's underwear clinging loosely at his hips, skin so delicate it looked as if his bones might cut straight through. His boxers were tight, not his usual sort and once more Brendan embraced the internal smugness that these were purchased just for him, to impress. Owing to that, he was going to make sure he got to keep them. He snapped the band of them with a tight smack of elastic on flesh – definitely new.

Now his fingers clasped over the shape of his dick and with head to the side, he studied him. He'd attempted to prop himself up onto his elbows, spine arched with anticipation. He tried shifting, to wriggle out of the last remaining clothes but Brendan held him still with his palm flat against his stomach. He moved his mouth over Ste's underwear, enjoying the torture it was giving him. Finally he inched the boxers down, bringing a rush of relief to Ste, who threw himself back onto the pillows expecting the playing to be over soon.

Brendan had other ideas. He weighted Ste's balls under his tongue, ignoring the very obvious straining of his slickening cock.

"She do this for you?" Brendan asked, thrusting his tongue over molten skin. He took a mouthful of the head of Ste's cock, rolling his cum-coated tongue over his teeth. "She swallow?"

Ste groaned under the sudden pressure of Brendan's tongue thick around his shaft. His hand struck the back of Brendan's neck and squeezed his hair in his palm. Brendan pumped him with his mouth and broke away.

"Does she?"

Before Ste could answer, he pulled him up by the hips, slipping him out of the underwear and licked a fluid line behind his balls and right into his hole, throwing Ste's leg over his shoulder and spreading him wide. He sucked two fingers, nail to knuckle.

"Do you ask her for this, when you wanna cum harder? Do you?" Brendan asked, holding up his glistening fingers like a badge of honour.

Ste squirmed: desperation and embarrassment. "Only once," he muttered, "I said I wanted to try and she said it was too weird. We didn't…she wouldn't…"

Brendan hummed and without much care or deliberation, pushed at him until he opened, two fingers giving him discomfort only to fall into bliss. Steven cries were fractured, his breath hitched like a scratched disc, his toes curling in their position around Brendan's body. Brendan had his mouth open, tongue loose. "There it is," he said, welcoming Ste's coiled moans when he hit his prostate over and over.

Even when Brendan's one man mission to make Steven feverish with arousal had been abandoned, and he had given in to finally fucking him, he was breathtakingly tight. He wanted to savour that feeling, that experience of feeling like he could rip him apart if he didn't bury deep all his lust. He had to go slow and controlled, two temperatures he struggled with when the boy had sweat-wet hair and a hunger for his cock he'd never seen the extent of before. There wasn't once where he'd undressed and Steven hadn't looked staggered, like he was fearful of his own desire. Steven couldn't make it sound poetic, but he made the bones scorch when he said, "I don't care if it hurts. Just fuck me."

He was bent double – a little painfully, but he was young, he could take it - mercilessly pounded and even Brendan could sense Ste was imagining how he could keep the peppered bite marks a secret from Rae. When he'd cum and Brendan had made a point of oiling him with it, enjoying every part of him, every taste, Brendan still wasn't done and with a firm little smack to his arse, had him on all fours, fucking him from behind, hips as leverage, until he himself was spent and sprawled out on the bed next to him.

After a moment's shut eye, Brendan binned the loaded condom and stroked himself until he was nursing a semi again. He opened his eyes and reached out across the kingsize.

"Steven…" he crooned. "C'mere."

He gave a short, sleepy giggle and crawled over. "What?" he asked.

Brendan sat up in bed, leaning to grab his body with both his hands and pulled Steven over his lap. Without a word, Ste took it upon himself to lavish Brendan's cock with attention, giving him a tight gripped wank.

"Easy," Brendan said through teeth. He took Ste's hips again, fingers stroking between his damp thighs and touching his deceptively angelic tattoo. He brought him forward, parting his cheeks and without little dignity began blindly rubbing the reddened head of his cock over his hole.

"Brendan…" Ste said. "We shouldn't…not without…"

He wasn't in the mood for protecting poor dumb Rae. He felt selfish, possessive. He was clean; he'd got checked. And right then he wanted Steven all to himself, wanted to be close to him.

He grunted, frustrated. Ste let him rut against him for a while, putting on quite the show as he wound his pelvis, hips like an entranced snake. And then Ste finally took the initiative and elbowed his way to the end of the bed to suck him off, giving Brendan the extra treat of having his arse pointed to the ceiling like the fulfilment of a greedy cat gorging on milk.

They had a lazy, semen-tasting kiss, after. Sleep didn't come for a little while.

"We don't do any of that stuff," Ste said quietly, with no conversation preceding it. "Me and Rae."

Brendan's arm around Ste's shoulders softened, uneasy and slack.

What he didn't say was that he only shagged her when he felt guilty enough to make himself. That he fancied her more on the days he'd banned himself from masturbating over thoughts of Brendan. That he felt more of a thrill at the promise of Brendan's work shirt unbuttoned half way than the sight of Rae in her skimpys. That he was pretty - almost definitely – sure that he was gay. That he absolutely, no question about it was addicted to Brendan Brady. And sex with Brendan Brady.

And really, truly, he wanted to go out with him. Be a couple.

What he didn't say was, he was in love with Brendan Brady.


End file.
